Forbidden Magic
by Hopiedoodles
Summary: In a world where magic is feared and seen as the root of all evil, those who were once held in high esteem by society now have prices on their heads. Only a few young magical people remain, and they live in a constant state of fear for their lives. This is the journal of one of those few. She is determined to change the world for her people or die trying. T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

I am an outlaw. I am a criminal, always on the run. Never safe, never knowing if each day would be my last. Constantly in hiding, I haven't ever stayed in one place for more than a month. Hundreds of identities, blurring together like the trees I gallop past while riding through the forests in the darkness of countless nights.

I am on my own. My friendships are fleeting and far between. Understandably so, as I everywhere I go. There is no way to know whom I can trust, whom I can let my guard down with. My existence is a miserable one. Yet still far better than the fate that awaits me should I be found. For if I slip up, if I am outwitted, unimaginable torture will ensue. They want information, information I do not have, knowledge I do not possess. Still, I shan't be able to convince them of my innocence. I shan't be able to tell them what they desire to hear. Therefore, once they discover I will not be a source of enlightenment, they will dispose of me. This is my fate. This is my destiny.

Certainly, I am able to delay my capture. I can prolong my life, but imprisonment and execution is inevitable. Each and every one of us faces this punishment. There is not one who has survived and made a life for themselves. The Midnight Riders have made certain of that. Meticulous records are kept, every date of birth recorded as well as every date of death. Each name which doesn't have a date of capture or death is considered a blight of the Riders' reputation. I am one of those blights. I am one of a select few who has evaded their cunning and cruelty. Each day that number continues dwindling. For they have succeeded in wiping out all mothers and fathers. All they have to do now is kill off the last of us adolescents and children and we will be gone forever, remembered only by the distorted images painted in their twisted accounts of history.

I've spent my whole life focusing solely on survival. My childhood was murdered by them, the Riders and their employers, on the same night that my parents' blood spilled onto our cabin's dirt floor. I was only a girl of five and a half years. I have been an orphan for almost twelve now. Six of those years have been spent on the run, traveling through mountains and valleys, deserts and woods, always looking for a safety I will never find. I will never find unless the ways of this world change. Drastically so. That is what I hope to do before my people are wiped off this planet. Before our flame is extinguished forever.

You do not know me. You do not know what dangers I face. You surely are wondering what a child, or even a child's family, could have done to warrant such extreme and merciless punishment. I know what. I may not understand why, but I know what. For, you see, we have not committed even the smallest of crimes. That is if your idea of a crime is doing something wrong intentionally, such as lying or stealing. For those are examples of a blackened heart, of a person lacking a strong moral compass. Yet my people have done no such thing. We have always been good, fair, hardworking citizens. Eager to please and happy to help. Appreciated and valued. That is, until about fifty years ago when King Edward and his family rose to power. It is by his decree that we have had prices put upon our heads, his word is that which made us all criminals, though we've not done any wrong.

My crime, our crime, the reason we may never live a normal and happy life, is that we were all born with a talent. A very peculiar talent, possessed by only a small percentage of the population. A talent, that though it was a subject of jealousy, was also a bringer off joy, health, and happiness to all. We were born, as you may have by now guessed, with the ability to perform magic. It is both our saving grace and our death sentence, and the reason I am writing these words today.

This is my story. This is the story of my people. I am writing this so that when the Riders catch me, as it is only a matter of time, there is a chance my story will survive. There is a chance my journal will fall into the hands of someone who is open-minded enough to hear the truth. There is a chance that though I will not live long my thoughts and words might. There is a chance that things could change, and there is a chance that this small, worn book could be the cause of it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: **I would like to apologize to those of you reading this who may have read the very first chapter soon after it was published. It has been a very long time since I last updated and I know that, had I been my own reader, I would be anxious for an update and perhaps have even given up by now. So, if you have returned to my story even after all this time then please know that I truly appreciate your support, more than you could ever know! __I published this tale about a week before I started my first year of high school and it was soon one of the only things I spent time on that wasn't required by teachers, coaches, etc. Therefore it was put on the back burner (please excuse the cliché!) I still may not be updating often or regularly although I do seem to have found a lot of inspiration for my plot lately. Still, I may not be able to update again until my next school vacation in February. Now, back to your not-so-regularly schedule story!_

I may as well start from the beginning. That is, my beginning, the farthest back that I can remember. My first memories are my only truly happy ones, as they are the only memories where I still possessed a home, friends, and a family. I didn't know that by my sixth birthday it would all be gone.

My very first memory seems too insignificant to have stayed for so long in my mind. Yet, there it has always been. I recall it was a sunny day and I was playing behind our family's small cottage with not a care in the world. I couldn't have been more than four years of age. My doll Violet and I were having tea, sipping daintily from imaginary cups and nibbling on the wild blackberries that grew along the banks of the stream running alongside our property. I can vaguely remember the apprehension and curiosity I felt when a shadow fell over my small form, blocking out the warm beams of light the afternoon offered.

I looked up quickly, squinting slightly at the halo the sun appeared to form around the tall man's head. I remember squealing in delight when I saw it was my beloved father, returned from his few days hunting trip. "How's my sunshine?" He set down his supplies and picked me up in his strong arms, twirling us around. My bubbly giggles filled the air. The moment was one of pure joy and innocence. I felt absolute bliss, and in that moment I believed that nothing could ever go wrong in the world. I would a few years later realize that everything, in fact, could go wrong. But in that moment my world was perfect and not even fate could steal away my joy. Not yet.

I can still feel the secure hold of my father's arms around my waist. In my mind I can picture his wide smile and his deep warm voice, but the rest of his identity has slipped from my mind over the years. Where his eyes violet like mine? Or did I inherit those from my mother? I cannot remember her face either. From whom did I receive my raven hair? My uncommon height I know came from papa. Though I remember less about my mother than my father, I do know that she was petite and delicate. I can only think of one thing that I know for certain was passed to me through my mother. For it is through her lineage that I received my skills with magic.

My first memory of my magic is from soon after that long ago sunny afternoon with my papa. It was my fifth birthday, and uncommonly early for a child to show they possessed the talent. I've always been rather advanced when it comes to use of one's mind and I suppose my magic was no exception. As I was saying, we were celebrating my fifth year and I had spent a happy day opening gifts given to me by my friends from the village (whom were still blissfully unaware of our family's secret.) The evening had arrived and my guests had left. My parents and I headed outside to watch the sunset, which promised to beautiful. A gift from Mother Nature herself! I was one lucky little girl.

I sat tucked between my mama and papa and we all gazed at the beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges painted across the sky in broad sweeping strokes. Too soon the top of the sun drew close to the bottom of the horizon, taking the awe-inspiring colors with it. Being the young, stubborn girl that I was, I became upset that just like that the sun thought it could bring an end to my perfect day. I longed to bottle the colors of the sky up and keep them. I wanted to show the world that though the sun would set and night would come, I could still take a small part of that day as my own. I wanted a piece of the sky as much as I had ever wanted anything in my short life, and I wasn't willing to let that desire go.

It is hard to describe the feel of magic. It is like a warm current, not at all unpleasant, coursing through your body. There is an almost palpable energy that builds up, starting in your core and spreading rapidly throughout your whole body. All you have to do is learn to channel the energy, tell it to do what you want. Easier said than done. This first time I performed magic I didn't realize what the buzzing feeling was but I knew I liked it and I sensed it could get me what I wanted. So I raised my little arm and pointed it at the rapidly fading colors in the sky. I felt the energy, the magic, leave my body in one great tidal wave and all of a sudden I felt exhausted and weak. The sheer force of the power as it left my small body sent me reeling backwards. But as I fell on my back I felt my hands fill with something softer than the finest silk and lighter than a feather. I looked down and through my haze of sudden sleepiness and confusion I felt a bubble of elation well up inside me. There, in my palms, I held a glowing orb of the swirling beautiful colors. I held, in my small child's hands, a portion of the sky.

My parents sat silently for a few moments, staring at the sunset I now held in my two tiny hands. Then my mother burst into sobs. This was very confusing for three-year-old me and instantly snuffed out the joy I had felt just seconds before. What had happened to upset mother? Was it what I considered to be the fantastic thing I had just accomplished?

I chimed in, in my high-pitched voice, "I could put the sky back if you wish me to, mama! Please stop crying! There's no reason to be so sad."

My father pulled me near to him in a tight embrace. "Don't worry about your mother just now, dear. She is simply crying because she is sad that her little girl is growing into a big one. Now run inside and get into your nightdress. Mother and father need to speak about a few adult things but we will be ready to tell you your bedtime story very soon." I did as papa told me, not wanting to make mama any sadder. When I reached my bedchamber the first thing I did was look for the best place to keep my own personal sunset. I decided I would place on the small table bedside my bed so it would be the last thing I saw every night and the first every morning. Soon my mother and father came in and began spinning another of my nightly fairy tales. Mother voiced the part of the fair maiden, as always. Her laughter rang out clear as a bell when papa swept her into his arms to demonstrate how the prince saved the beautiful lady from the dragon and I forgot all about mama's earlier weeping.

I now realize that mother was crying because she knew that I would now be forced to live a life of fear and secrecy for the rest of my days. Though mother herself, I later determined, had no magical powers, her grandmother was a different story. My great-grandmother, whose history I've patched together over my years of travel, was a well-respected and advanced sorceress during her time. That was, of course, before King Edward seized the throne after King Jacob died and left no living heirs.

Fortunately the magic skipped a few generations, as it sometimes does, and I was the next in the family to have the gift. My grandmother lived and died without ever knowing the horrors inflicted upon the magical and their kin, as she passed away shortly after my mama was born. She passed away before the Midnight Riders enlarged their search to encompass not only those with magical powers but also any of their blood relations. My mother was not so lucky. Though she managed to hide what her great-grandmother was for over 20 years, one day they came. In mid-autumn, when I was halfway through my fifth year, the Midnight Riders found us and it was all because of me.

_**Author's Note** **Continued:**_ _I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! I know that it didn't have much action or any tales of life on the run, but please stick with it! Those things will come into play soon, maybe even in the next chapter. It all depends on what flows best with the direction I hope to move the story in. Also, if any of you are romance fans, I am going to be trying my hand at throwing some of that into the mix! I love reading it but I've never written it before so if any of you have suggestions to make it easier than please let me know. I would really appreciate it! _

_I will most likely continue to tell this story in the form of a journal, meaning that details such as the main character's name (which I have decided on!) will only pop up when it makes sense for her to write it in her diary. This also means that memories will be mixed with current events, so don't feel put off by having childhood memories to slog through before you reach the death-defying outlaw life! It won't be put on hold until the whole background of our leading lady is laid out, but will instead be part of what triggers the memories that are written down. Anyways, if you have any requests for things you might like to see, suggestion, or anything else then please know that I'm all ears! I hope that you will continue following this story!_


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